


It's For Good

by Kyla_Wren



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Coffee, Declarations Of Love, DrummerWolf, F/M, First Kiss, Inaccurate Baseball, Pararibulitis (Dirk Gently)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 19:43:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15056396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyla_Wren/pseuds/Kyla_Wren
Summary: Amanda & Martin get breakfast in Wyoming while the Rowdies sleep in.





	It's For Good

They were camping at an abandoned farm outside of town, sleeping in the overgrown orchard. The air was warm and smelled ripe and sweet here. As usual, he was awake first. It felt to be around nine or so in the morning. When you slept in late enough, the dew dried up before it could get your feet wet. That was Martin's thinking, anyway.

Drummer had fallen asleep close to him and moved even closer in the night. One of her hands curled around his shoulder and she was breathing softly near his neck. That kept him still for another ten minutes or so, enjoying the contact.

With gentle movements he managed to slip out of her almost-embrace and walked to the van to retrieve his glasses. He applied a bandage to his nose and cleaned his teeth with some toothpaste and a rag. They should find a motel tonight. It had been enough days camping in a row. Time for a real shower. Drummer would like that. And some coffee. Martin liked coffee.

He pushed his hair up into the short mohawk it preferred to be in and looked over at his brothers. It was one of those rare times that Gripps and Vogel had elected to use their sleeping bags. They looked like two burritos lined up on a plate. Cross, on the other hand, was sleeping in the low branches of a fruit tree like a panther. Tents and sleeping bags made him feel too closed-in. Cross would probably be happy if they never used a motel again.

Martin folded the rag and used it to wipe down the bat he’d left on the driver’s seat. It was sticky with juice - they had spent the previous evening playing ball with the fallen fruits in the orchard. The rotten ones burst and flew through the air in a satisfying way. They even made a game of running to different trees - first base, second, sixth, ninth - Gripps was playing umpire and didn’t have a real grasp of the rules.

Drummer had loved it. Martin looked over at her, sleeping like an angel that forgot to wash her eyeliner off. She liked running around and playing games- she was quick and agile. At one point he had chased her from tree to tree, threatening to tag her with a half-pulped fruit but not really intending to. Her wicked laugh had echoed around them and quickened his blood into something a little more intense. He struggled the feeling down when he caught her at last, letting the fruit fall and capturing her by the arms.

“Got you, Drummer,” he said, and it came out as a growl.

She laughed and showed all of her teeth. “Shit, you’re too fast, Martin.”

“We win!” Vogel declared from his pretend pitcher’s mound. The accuracy of this was debatable, but everyone was satisfied.

Back in the morning light, Martin slid on his rings one at a time from the cupholder. Drummer was stirring.

“Martin.” Sleep clung to her voice.

“Mornin’, Drummer girl.”

She sat up, raking her hand through her bangs.

“Hey…” her eyes were still mostly closed. “Isn’t there a diner really close to here? Like, close enough to walk?”

He moved over to here, closing the last buttons of his vest. “You want breakfast?”

She tilted her head, considering. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“Well all right,” he purred. It came out as one word. “Boys?”

There was a resounding silence.

“ _Boys._ ”

Gripps moaned. Vogel flipped over in his bag with a grumpy rustle. Cross remained silent and asleep.

“Do you guys want breakfast?” Drummer asked, bemused. She stood up and folded her blanket. In shorts and a t-shirt, with messy hair and bare feet - Martin felt a surge of protectiveness. It felt like a stab in the heart.

“Go On Without Us Boss!!” Gripps hollered without opening his eyes.

“I want more _sleep_ ,” Vogel hissed.

“Go on,” came from Cross’ tree.

“Lazy-ass bums. I’m not bring you back nothin’,” Martin said sternly. The conversations between the Rowdy 3 were always a sing-song chorus, fast and harsh.

Drummer laughed. “We won’t be long, then.”

She pulled on boots and a soft zip-up hoodie. The diner was as close as she said - they cut back through the farm, past the weather-worn barn, and walked on the shoulder of a country road for a block or two before it connected to a more trafficked highway. The diner was on the corner, somewhat busy for the area. Martin remembered it was Sunday morning. They didn’t have to wait for a table when it was just the two of them - a novel experience.

“Hey kiddos. What’ll you have?”

Martin wasn’t too surprised by the waitress’ easy demeanor. Drummer was cute as a bunny, even under black clothes and a half-shaved head. It made normal people more friendly towards them. 

She ordered some massive breakfast plate. The server turned to Martin with more of the nervousness he was used to.

“And you?”

“Black coffee.”

“Hm. You gotta make sure your boyfriend eats more than that. Maybe he’ll have some of yours.” The waitress collected their menus and walked off. Drummer’s cheeks were a bit pink, a fact that Martin found very interesting and was about to investigate, when her phone buzzed in her pocket.

“It’s Todd,” she said, reading a text with narrowed eyes.

“How’s Toad?” Martin drawled. She ignored it, which he took as approval.

“He’s checking in. They’re still working on that case with the musician.”

Martin grunted. The weird British guy and Drummer’s dumbass brother could play detective all they wanted. He knew they would both be dead in a hundred different ways if they didn't have that Farah woman protecting them.

Drummer texted for a moment and then put her phone away, frowning.

“You know, we’re further away from home now than I've ever been.”

“Home?”

“Well, I mean, I _am_ home, all the time now, with you guys,” Drummers eyes crinkled and Martin felt his heart twist in an embarrassing way. It was really taking a beating this morning. “I mean further away from Todd and my parents than I've ever been. From any place I've ever lived before. And we’re going to keep going, right?”

Martin inclined his head. “All depends on you, Drummer girl. We go where you need to go.”

“Right.” She played with a sugar packet. “And if I wasn't with you, how would you decide where to go? What did you do before we met?”

He tugged on his beard. Life before they met. Seemed like decades ago, now.

“It's gettin’ on in the year,” he said, thoughtful. “We always spun around and headed south before winter hit. We’re on track to do it again. We could go to Arizona, Texas… go on to Georgia…”

Drummer nodded at each state name. “Cool.”

The food arrived. It was hot, fresh, and had the same uniform look that you could find in diner food from Oregon to Jersey.

“I remember when you could smoke in these places,” Martin grumbled. His coffee was good, though.

Drummer looked up from tucking into her hash browns with a smile. 

“I like that plan. I like knowing we’ll be together all winter.”

Martin shook his head to himself, wondering again why Drummer always parsed out the future in chunks like that and acted worried that they wouldn’t be together by the next season. She’d learn not to eventually, he was sure. 

He noticed a change in the air. His companion was looking around the diner, frowning at the waitress. He couldn’t read her mind, but he could taste tension.

Drummer put down her cup with a thunk, looking sick.

“You okay, Drummer?” Martin asked, quick and quiet.

“Ah, shit,” she rubbed her temples with shaking hands. “I feel an attack coming on.”

Martin covered her hand with his. Every muscle in his body tensed, ready to get her out of there. 

Drummer stayed put, though. The last few months had toughened her up beyond belief. He watched while she quivered, hunched over and silent. Intense pain and fear were radiating off of her in waves, as well as determination. She dug her nails into him until they drew blood. He didn’t move.

Seconds later her eyes shot open and she drew in a ragged gasp.

“Done. Take it.”

Without hesitation he pulled her bad energy away. No one in the diner noticed the burst of light - it could have been a photo flash, for all they knew. Martin washed it down with a long sip of coffee. Tasty.

She noticed the bleeding marks on his hand.

“Oh, Martin! No! I’m sorry,” she looked like she could cry. 

“It ain’t nothin’,” he reassured her. “Heal up in a few minutes.”

The Rowdies healed very fast. It was one of those things they didn’t examine too closely. Another reminder of being not quite human.

“Ugh.” Drummer put her fork on her plate and pushed it away from her. “Wanna head back?”

“If you’re ready.”

They left some overestimate of the bill on the table and walked back out into the sunshine. Cars blew by on the road. Martin’s right hand hovered near her back, watching for any lingering exhaustion. With his other he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. 

“See anything?” he muttered.

Drummer hmm’d and pulled at her sleeve.

“Not much. I think you’re right, heading South is good idea.”

They walked for a few minutes, picking through the tall grass. A car passed them on the road.

“Thanks for being there. For me.”

Drummer looked over her shoulder at him. He blew smoke, frowning slightly.

“Where else would I be?”

She laughed. “Every time, you’re there. Makes me feel safe.”

He smoked in silence for a minute, trailing after her. Before they turned off the road he tossed the cigarette onto the pavement.

“Amanda.”

She stopped short behind the farmhouse, surprised to hear him use her real name. He crossed his arms and fought to organize his thoughts. He felt a strange sense of desperation to tell her something before they made it back to the others. 

“I’m always gonna be here with you. As long as you want me. You _are_ safe.”

She moved closer, until her face was right below him, eyes upturned. Her calm was infectious, so recently bled dry of worries by Martin himself. The noise of insects and birds surrounded them. She traced a finger over the back of his hand. Healed already, as promised.

“Well,” she said, slow and careful as he had been, “I think I want you with me forever. Does that work?”

“That works.”

Martin took a lock of her hair and wound it around his finger. It was too much of a good feeling. Too rich, too strong. He didn’t want to break it.

She closed the distance and met his lips with hers. Taken by instinct, he moved to close his hands around her waist while his brain caught up with his body. 

Kissing her was like drinking her in. In seconds every one of his nerve endings was firing and lights were dancing behind his eyelids. He pressed all of himself against her, suddenly unwilling to be apart by even the smallest space. Drummer was holding his shirt with both hands, drawing him towards her like a mermaid pulling a sailor down to drown. And he was happy to drown, happier than anything else had ever made him. Between the physical of her- warm, soft, delicious- and the supernatural - magic, excitement, lust, pleasure - his senses were going haywire. 

He held her waist tighter as she broke apart from him by less than an inch.

“Taste some,” she whispered, breathless. “I want you to know.”

He looked down at her, their noses touching, and opened his mouth slightly. He took the smallest tendril of blue which flowed from her mouth to his and closed the distance for another kiss. She tasted like… oh. 

Love. She loved him.

“I love you,” he said, sounding dazed. She understood that he was saying it back to her.

“You figured it out.” She gave him one of her special grins. Martin loved them most of all - she always looked like she was about to share a secret joke that delighted her.

“Never thought such a thing would come true,” he murmured.

“Me neither,” Drummer admitted. “Never thought my life would end up so good.”

“Good?” Martin looked back at her, quick, with a raised brow. “Not, say... dangerous? Dirty? Uncomfortable?”

“Definitely good.” Her voice was firm. “Great, actually.”

They rested against the wall, still locked together. The sun had warmed the wooden slats. Martin’s legs felt weak. Was he under a spell? If he was, he liked it. He was pretty sure Drummer only knew how to cast shit like lightning bolts and teleportation, anyhow.

They heard raised voices from the campground. The other Rowdies were fully awake now, and getting restless. In sync, the two of them moved towards their pack.

“That was a yes, right? We’re staying together?” she looked like she was half-kidding and half hoping for reassurance. Drummer girl was no stranger to betrayal. He was determined to make her forget her worries, one day at a time.

Martin looked at her and winked.

“You and me? It’s for good.”

**Author's Note:**

> <3


End file.
